Delicate, written in a garden.
- Reads 199
- Votes 2
- Parts 8
Ongoing6m
Last published Fri, Jul 30, 2021
Jasmine.
And it is when I bought this empty book of true tongue to be,
I plastered it with dead scented jasmine.
My ink black and depth and dark,
I sit sweet jazz in my ear as the dead petals
drop through beige pages.
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